


Fighting a Fixed Point

by luinel (geekns)



Series: The Incubus and the Lady President [2]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996), Torchwood
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Romance, Childbirth, F/M, No Genderfluidity, Pregnant Sex, References to Miscarriage, Trinary Time Lords, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekns/pseuds/luinel
Summary: A companion to my fic Incubus, told from Donna's point of view.





	1. Chapter 1

Donna Noble had been having trouble sleeping ever since The Library. She would lie awake at night, alone, trying to forget what it had felt like to sleep next to someone. She had thought, when they left that planet, that her memories of being Saved would quickly fade... It had all happened over the course of a few hours, none of it had been real, so surely her mind would let go of the event, push it aside, forget. That didn't prove to be the case, unfortunately. When she tried to go to sleep, she would remember what it had been like at night, when she would put the kids to bed after dinner and a bath, and their father had read to them, and then they would be alone. He and she would talk about their day, about their unfulfilled hopes for more children, watch television or read, and very often they would make love before drifting off to sleep in each others' arms. She had lots of memories like that which hadn't actually happened, but now filled her dreams because her mind was trying to fill the gaps CAL had left in it. Her entire life had been wrapped up in her family, only none of it had been real.  
  
But her experience in The Library had changed her perspective on life in the Tardis. Over the past year she had faced many adventures, trials, and thrills. She had faced them head on and hand in hand with the Doctor. At night, they would take turns making dinner, or sometimes work together in the Tardis' kitchen. They would eat, talk about their day, then retire to the Tardis' library, where they would watch the vid-screen, with its vast database of movies and television programs from numerous cultures, or maybe read, either alone or together.  
  
For a long time, she hadn't realized how much the Doctor touched her, and she touched him. They held hands all the time when outside of the Tardis. They hugged each other at least once a day. In the Console Room, halls, kitchen, they would bump up against one another in the course of simply doing everyday tasks and chores, or brush against one another when trying to pass in a small space. In the Tardis' library, her feet would end up in his lap, or his head in her lap, or they would somehow manage to find themselves leaning against one another. The library wasn't small by any means...there were numerous shelves, tables, arm chairs, and couches. They could have spent all of their time on opposite sides of the room, barely aware of one another's presence, but instead they usually ended up on the same beat up but comfortable couch, curled up in front of a crackling fire in the room's lone fireplace, enjoying each others' company.  
  
She no longer wondered that people thought they were married. In fact, she had begun to wonder why they weren't. They acted as if they were. They fought as if they were. The only place where their lives did not overlap was in the bedroom. Oh, he had been in hers a couple of times, but never without knocking, or being invited, and never for any length of time. What troubled her was that he didn't seem the slightest bit interested. She was hyper-aware of him when he was nearby, it felt both natural and exciting to be together, and she had found parts of her body pressed against a certain part of his body on more than one occasion and in a myriad of circumstances. His body  _never_ reacted: either he had perfect control over his reproductive system's reflexes, was impotent, or he wasn't the slightest bit interested in her.  
  
All three of these possibilities terrified her. She had spent her entire life looking for a husband. For as long as she could remember she had felt incomplete, as if she was looking for someone, and the Doctor certainly seemed to fill that void in her life. But there was more to it than that. She had always known that she wanted to have children, and she was acutely aware on occasion that she was running out of time. She had instinctively known when she met the Doctor that he couldn't give her children, she knew not how, but in fact the entire idea had repulsed her somewhat. There was something about him that pricked at the edges of her awareness, that had made her want to run away from him. And so she had. He had understood her like no one else had, made her laugh, protected her, scared her, and she wanted  _more_ , but her fear had won.  
  
She had never regret anything more, and had spent most of the next year trying to fix her mistake, but she still felt it when she looked at him. She loved him desperately, but there was something wrong about him. He wasn't meant to be, he was meant to be feared, he was different. Oh how she wished that she could just settle down with someone like Lee, but at the same time she knew that her old life wasn't real. It never had been, she has always been waiting for her life to begin, and finding the Doctor had been what made that happen. She had remained somewhat content so long as she had remained oblivious to the extraordinary and alien, and now she could never go back again.  
  
She only wished that she could know if the Doctor felt the same way as she did. She had realized that her feelings had changed when she had kissed him in that kitchen, in front of Agatha Christie and the rest of the staff. She had tried to convince herself that she was imagining things, but she recognized through her relationship to Lee what the Doctor meant to her, now. Every morning, she would wake up and make food for a family of four, and the Doctor wouldn't say a word, he would simply scarf down ¾ of what she had cooked. She took care of him because the idiot would never take care of himself.  
  
When she had met him the second time he had looked even thinner than the time before, he obviously needed some looking after, so she fed him, and prompted him to do the right things, and stopped him from doing the wrong ones, and it worked. They made a difference in other peoples' lives, they changed things for the better. They were in desperate need of a vacation, and it seemed like disaster lurked around ever corner, but she was happy. She was, really. So she wouldn't rock the boat, she wouldn't try to change things. She had promised to stay with him forever. She would let go of her hopes and dreams and think of him instead. Tardis knew that no one else ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

Holding hands with the Doctor today felt electric. Her skin was tingling all over, but especially where their fingers were intertwined. His unexpected nausea had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and now they were throwing themselves into the sights and sounds of the planet he had brought her to. He had been to this market before, so he led her from stall to stall, sharing with her all the delights of what Shan Shen held. The myriad of colors and wares was rather dizzying. Anything she showed the slightest bit of interest in, the Doctor bought for her, tucking it into his pockets and out of sight, and then they would rush onward.  
  
For lunch, they found a little restaurant that was obviously popular with the natives so they could sample the local cuisine. She had expected to have a chance to catch her breath here, but instead he seemed to be finding new ways to take her breath away. His hand brushed against hers intimately as he passed her tea. He offered her a bite of his food, his long fingers grasping the chopsticks with practiced ease. The stools they were sitting on were so close together that it almost felt as if they were sitting in one another's laps: his long legs couldn't fit under the counter, so he had turned to face her, and they were folded on either side of her, one knee pressed against her own. As the meal progressed she relaxed more and more, reveling in the feeling of her leg rested against his.  
  
She gradually became aware that he was staring at her. It had seemed perfectly natural, at first, because he was turned to face her, but she came to realize that it was more than that. His gaze was filled with a possessiveness that she had never seen in him before. The heat of his eyes on her body made her blush, and butterflies fluttered low in her belly in unanticipated arousal. She shifted in her seat, itching with long supressed desire, her entire body coming alive, feeling deliciously flushed, wondering if he knew what he was doing to her, each passing moment causing this tension to build.  
  
He became so distracting that she almost dropped her chopsticks, did drop her food, but he caught the dumpling deftly with his own before it could land on her chest.  She watched enthralled as he lifted the food to his mouth. She didn't know how he did it, but he had this mad oral fixation that could make eating anything look like foreplay. She hadn't allowed herself to watch him eat in a long time, but for some reason, today, she couldn't tear her eyes away. He leaned toward her, using his free hand to brush her hair back, over her shoulder, and leaned down to talk into her ear, above the noises of the kitchen, and the market, and the other customers' voices.  
  
“Are you ready?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear and neck. She dropped her chopsticks as he licked his lips, her breath catching, and he dipped his head again. “Are you done?” he repeated. He probably thought she hadn't heard him the first time. It was very loud in here, and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She nodded her head slowly. They stood simultaneously, which left them standing face to face, chest to chest, and his arms encircled her waist, steadying her. She stood very still as he pulled some money out of his pocket, laid it on the counter, and then her hand was in his and he was leading her through the crowds.  
  
She had no idea where they were, but he was walking somewhere with purpose. People pressed in against her, hurrying headlong through the lunch rush, but he expertly weaved them through the crowd, somehow managing to always find a gap for them to pass through. She walked directly behind him, acutely aware of the hand that was wrapped firmly but comfortably around her own. Suddenly, they were passing through a narrow walkway, with posters pasted on either side, and walls so close that they left her feeling claustrophobic, but then they passed into sunlight and could see the Tardis, not a few meters away.  
  
The alley was wider here, and she passed him, inexplicably eager to touch their ship, and that was when she found herself pinned to the Tardis' doors and the Doctor's mouth insistent on her own. She gasped in surprise, and he took it as invitation, his tongue sweeping inside and massaging the roof of her mouth. He still tasted of his lunch, the spicy tang of it mixing with the smooth flavor of the dumplings she had been eating. Their tongues dueled for dominance, but in the end it seemed like a complicated dance where neither won but left both feeling enraptured. Kissing him was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.  
  
Her knees faltered, but he caught her, lifting her as if she were weightless and pressing her up against the Tardis' paneling with gentle force. She found herself wrapping her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he shifted his hips to press his need against her. At least...she assumed that was what he was doing. She still couldn't feel any evidence of the kind, but he was grinding against her apex with wild abandon, his breath coming in sharp pants of delight and need, his face now tucked into her throat. His hands had been on her hips, supporting, but shifted now to press at the small of her back, cradling or... clinging.  
  
She was no longer aware of where they were, or the world around them, only him. She was vaguely aware that something was wrong, that his behavior was completely out of character, but she didn't care. Her body was on fire, she was desperate to have him buried inside her, to fulfill his need as much as her own. She flicked open the button of his trousers, and tugged his shirttails out of his waistband with ease. His muscles were tight underneath her palms, clenched in tension, the anticipation that was building to a torturous pitch. His frenzied movements halted, and he lifted her again, opening the door that she had been set against and carrying her into the Tardis.  
  
It was cool and dark here, a stark contrast to the heat and light they had been surrounded by a moment ago. He set her down, and she struggled to pull off her jacket, overheated even here, then stepped forward to divest him of his coat. He went rigid in her arms. She stilled, her eyes flicking upwards to take in his expression. The pupils of his usually warm eyes were dilated. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, uncertain whether to stand his ground or bolt. He had initiated all of this, but she could now see that he was less certain than she was. She guessed that he had been acting on instinct and was now overthinking things.  
  
Her body was vibrating still, her lips tingling with the remembrance of his mouth on her own. Inwardly, she sighed, but outwardly she decided that it was best to take things at a more sedate pace, to make sure that this wasn't something that he would come to regret.  _She_ certainly wasn't regretting this new turn of events.  
  
“Come on spaceman,” she said affectionately after freeing him of his coat. “Let's have us a talk.” She took his hand in her own, and it felt so natural and right. She imagined that he must still be fragile after the events of the past few weeks. He always seemed strong, but she often wondered how he really felt, how much of that strength was merely an act, a strong front that he put on because he didn't know how to be anything else.  
  
Her room was not far away. They slipped inside, and she shut her door out of habit more than anything else. She felt at home here, and hoped that it would be more comfortable for him than the vast size of the Console Room or the open alley. They sat down on the bed together, and she caressed his hand affectionately before letting go of it. “There's no need to rush, we have all the time in the universe.” She shifted away from him slightly, to give him room, but decided to take off her belt, because it was feeling uncomfortably tight against her sensitive skin.  
  
He watched her, the wheels in his head slowly turning, and gradually relaxed, his expression softening.  
  
“I've never done this before,” he confessed. It was the first time he had spoken since the restaurant.  
  
“Wot, sat on a bed with a girl?” she teased, suddenly amused.  
  
“No, become...intimate...with a companion.” She was certain that her heart must have skipped a beat.  
  
“Is that what this is?” she asked. She suddenly wondered if he thought she was asking too much, if her intensity had scared him. His certainly hadn't scared her, it had felt so right, but...maybe it was all physical. She found herself backpedaling: “That's sweet. No call for it, really, whatever makes you feel better.” She couldn't look at him now. Why did she always want more than what men wanted to give? Still, better to have him as a friend with benefits than not at all.  
  
“No, I'm sorry, that's part of the problem, I've only been thinking of me.” She giggled, even more uncomfortable now. Men only thought of themselves in her experience. “I don't want to use you. I mean, I like being with you―like it quite a lot―but you're better than this.” She stood abruptly, leaving him alone on the bed, needing to find some space to think. She didn't understand now, wondered if maybe he wasn't actually being honest with her after all. Was he trying to let her down easy?  
  
“You trying to talk yourself out of this, then?” she asked quietly. She didn't want to ask this, but she needed to know. He didn't answer, so she pressed on: “That's all right, don't mind me.” Her heart was breaking, so quick of a change from the heights her body had been lifted to only scant minutes ago, that she felt as if she had whiplash. “You can go if you like.” She tried but failed to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.  
  
And suddenly he was there, his hands insistent as he turned her, and she was in his arms again, her face pressed to his shoulder.  
  
“I don't deserve you,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “Don't ever think that I don't want you.” She whimpered, and pressed her face into his bony shoulder more insistently, clinging to him. She had expected him to draw her closer, to surround her in a bear hug, but instead he coaxed her face upwards, his lips claiming hers again. The kiss seemed to go on forever, to convey even more desperation than the one outside had, and it took her breath away. She could see stars behind her eyelids, and once more he caught her, and held her to himself reverently. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Teach me what to do, how to show you...”  
  
This confession turned supplication startled her, and she wondered how they had reached this place, how little she knew about him, how he always managed to surprise her.  
  
“Every day with you is more special than the one before,” she marveled. Her head was spinning: “Can we sit down?”  
  
She suddenly found herself laying in her bed, his body hovering over her own, his nose brushing a path across the skin of her face with open affection, childlike, but gradually escalating again to something more, something filled with promise. She panted with the intensity of the feelings that were coursing through her body, every nerve ending coming alive beneath his coaxing touch.  
  
“So are you just ignorant about human girls then?” she asked, wondering at his skill, since he claimed to be inexperienced. “I'm sure your wife must have had one of those bypass respite-ma-bob, but an Earth girl like me needs to breathe.”  
  
“Wife?” the Doctor's attention faltered, bring his actions to another frustrating halt. “I've never been married.”  
  
“But you've had children,” she responded, “you told me...”  
  
“Time Lord,” he reminded her, pointing to himself. She could feel her brow wrinkle in confusion, and considered this. Did he mean that Time Lords didn't have sex? That they used artificial insemination? That would mean that he was a virgin! “'It's the duty of every graduate to help sire the next generation'...theoretically speaking.”  
  
“What's that supposed to mean?” she demanded. How could an entire culture thrive yet not have marriage or sex?  
  
“Well...I'm not exactly normal. I'm part of the 0.25% of the population that is neither male nor female: rather rare, me. In my case, I went to a clinic twice, a year apart each time, and five years later I was told that I had three children.” It was Donna's turn to pull away from him in surprise. She sat up, and he let her, breaking their connection and allowing her a moment to regroup.  
  
“You aren't  _male_?” she tried to confirm. It seemed impossible. He swallowed nervously, the deer in headlights expression shining through again:  
  
“No, I'm not, not really.” He looked away, lifted a hand to tug on his ear self-consciously: “I'm...kind of...both.”  Unexpected affection flooded through her now as she wondered if he had ever shared this knowledge with anyone before. Still, she needed to understand what he meant before they could move forward. Better to rip off the plaster...  
  
“What's that even mean?” she asked. Images suddenly flashed through her mind, unbid, of him taking her from behind while someone else was also doing the same to him. “That you can do both at the same time?” She had never been as sexually repressed as the partners she had taken in the past, but neither had she had the opportunity to experiment. She suddenly found it ironic that the Doctor seemed to be more skilled at arousing her than any of her other sexual partners ever had been, and then she found herself wondering how close to a woman he was sexually, if that was how. She had a hard time picturing him as a lesbian lover.  
  
“No, no,” his voice cut through her musings. “I sort of...change back and forth. Don't know why, really, my body seems to decide to do it on its own. Never wanted to even try being intimate before you.” She realized that he was being incredibly open with her, and that she had guessed right. This was entirely uncharted waters for him. He seemed pleased with himself, now, and reached for her hand, grinning: “I love you,” he blurted out.


	3. Chapter 3

“Blimey,” was all that Donna could think to say, filled with surprise even as she tried to sound casually flippant. She couldn't hold that irreverence when her heart was breaking all over again. The enormity of what he had said, of everything that had happened today, overwhelmed her, and she burst into sobs, which was the last thing she wanted right now. Crying seemed to scare most blokes off, especially in intimate situations. The Doctor had seen her cry before, of course, but he had never made her cry. So she tried to stop, then to hide from him, embarrassed, willing herself to stop, wishing that her face didn't screw up in such an unattractive way, but none of it helped.  
  
"I'm sorry," he soothed, his hand comforting on her back. She threw herself into his arms again, giving into the tears, knowing that she was too far gone, now. It would be easier to get everything out in the open, rather than hide it for the sake of a little bit of pride. And then her decision to stay with him was at the forefront of her awareness. He had been completely honest with her, and she felt that she owed him the same.  
  
"I don't want to love you," Donna she whispered against his neck. “All I want, all I've ever wanted, is to have a family.” She blushed, wondering if she was pushing her luck, that this probably would be the thing to drive him away, but unable to stop. “Forget having a meaningful career, being a successful woman, and putting cash away to support my Grandad. As long as I can remember, I've wanted to have a whole house full of babies.”  
  
His body had gone stiff again, and she could feel him slipping away from her. Desperate to look into the Doctor's eyes, Donna lifted a hand to his cheek, turning his face towards her own: “but I do love you,” she confessed. “I choose  _you_ instead.”  
  
"You do?” his voice was rough again, which inexplicably thrilled her. She suppressed a giggle, shrugging:  
  
"Where would you be without me?” she teased. “You prawn...”  
  
The Doctor crushed his mouth to hers again, all of their issues seemingly resolved. She lifted her hands to his head, gently combing her fingers through his hair. She had longed to do this for such a long time, so she gave in, playing with his gravity defying locks, stroking his sideboards, then returning again, filling her hands with his wonderfully soft hair. She decided to try something new, tangling her fingers up in his now thoroughly rumpled cock's comb, and tugging gently. He shuddered in response, moaning in appreciation, her name falling from his lips in adoration.  
  
She climbed into his lap and pressed her center against his, repeating her ministrations with his hair. Each pull caused his hips to lift, firmly pressing their sexes together and sending waves of pleasure radiating through her. She guessed that he wouldn't last long, now. His control had slipped, and he would let her guide him through uncharted waters, just so long as she took the lead. Unfortunately, they were both wearing far too much. She pulled back just enough to begin divesting him of his modest and familiar clothing, quickly revealing freckled flesh that she wondered how it had ever seen the sun. He was trembling beneath her hands, and she marveled at how quickly the tables had been turned. At lunch, she had been putty in his hands, and now, he was putty in hers. It felt incredibly empowering.  
  
Once his shirt, jacket, and tie were gone, she allowed her hands to explore the chiseled planes of his chest, noticing the play of muscles beneath her hands, the fuzz that dusted his pecs, the enthralled expressions that washed over his features with each new caress and stroke. She smiled, brushing her lips against his before standing and backing away from him. She took her time stripping, not exactly putting on a show, but wanting to draw out his anticipation. At last, she was standing before him in only underwear. It was still distressing not to see any sign of his need tenting his trousers...perhaps it was time to discover what she did have to work with, instead. She shivered in anticipation.  
  
She pulled him to his feet, then knelt before him, locking her eyes with his as she worked the fly of his trousers. By all indications other than the obvious, he was very much aroused. He looked fit to pass out, as if he was experiencing sensory overload. She found his scent to be warm and musky, was eager to keep moving, but she kept her movements slow and measured, not wanting to make him skittish again, and it seemed to be working nicely. Each gentle teasing movement seemed to make his eyes dilate even further, the scent of his arousal grow more noticeable. She gently pressed a hand against his crotch inquiringly, and his moan made her heart surge with a glorious thrill of lust. She kissed him eagerly in response.  
  
His arousal was hot and wet against her palm. She could feel no penis, as such, but a shape closer to what she had between her own legs. However, something was bulging, pressing forward into her hand, and she could feel it throb with his heartsbeat. He was in pain, as well as aroused, she realized. She guessed that he was still in the process of changing. His entire body was quivering with tension. The bed wasn't the place for this at all, things would need to move to somewhere to allow him to relax further, to ease this process for him. She took his hand and led him to the inexplicable pool.  
  
She couldn't remember when she had noticed the pool for the first time. The more she thought about it, she accepted that it must have always been there, since before the Tardis had chosen this room for her, but so much about her life here was strange. This place felt like home, and yet parts of it still scared her, seemed alien and secret, as if waiting for some unknown event in the future to be discovered. So this pool had started out like many of the things in her life had been, hidden, unobservable, but still present. She had known this was here for weeks, certainly since the Sontarans, but she thought that she had dreamed of it after the Ood. She had never used it, but it was always there, waiting. And now it was time for them to put it to use together.  
  
She led him to the steps that descended into the water, then paused to take off her underwear, fully revealing herself to him for the first time. This, unexpectedly, seemed natural, even welcome. When in the past she had been afraid, wondered what her new partner would think, today she felt nothing but love and acceptance, both directed towards herself, and reflected back to him. Oddly enough, the Doctor, himself, was adorably nervous. He was openly worshiping her body, he didn't even consider that she could be self-conscious, but he was much less comfortable with his own nudity. She briefly wondered if the Tardis was more audible here, but her attention was soon pulled towards the man she loved once again.  
  
He did look like a man in most ways, she noticed, it was just that he had no balls and his penis seemed to be a little confused. Right now he seemed to be stuck in between a male or female position. He had no labia, but he did have what must have looked like a vagina. Right now, it looked a little bit like he was giving birth to the head of his own penis, but the skin there was swollen and trapped, no longer completely inside, but not quite out. Perhaps she ought not have encouraged him so, but she hadn't known what state she would find him in, hadn't known to be gentle with him. He did have an erection, at least it seemed as if it was the problem. He was dripping with his body's own special type of natural lubrication, but as things were at the moment, she doubted that he would be in any shape to make love tonight.  
  
Donna kept her expression neutral, however, as she led him into the pool. She didn't want to stress him any more than he already was, and his needs were clearly greater than her own, no matter how hot and bothered she was. Her feet found their way on their own as she reveled in the beauty of this place, inhaling deeply and feeling herself instantly relax. The Doctor sank into the water before her, leaning against a support that clearly fit him perfectly, and she placed her hands on his back.  
  
She had been right to suppose that this was what he needed. His body was filled with tension, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action, but he had nowhere to run. He would always carry his sexual organs with him unless he was mutilated in some way. Somehow, this new knowledge about him already felt like it was a part of her. She wasn't disgusted, despite being surprised and understandably curious. She had always instinctively known that something was different, and she felt more comfortable with him now she knew how.  
  
She could tell that his eyes had yet to leave her body: much like earlier in the day, he was openly staring at her as if he had never seen her before. Maybe he hadn't. She paid him no mind because she trusted him completely. Instead she focused on his back, her hands learning this part of his body. Eventually, his breathing deepened and his eyes drifted shut as he grew more and more peaceful. But his problem was still unresolved. He was more relaxed now, but it wasn't enough. She was sure that he needed to finish this transition soon, and she was also sure that he wouldn't (or couldn't) help himself.  
  
She slipped around to the front of his body, taking in the sight of him again. It struck her that his sex looked quite similar to an unfolding flower in this state, with overlapping folds of skin that all encompassed what she felt very certain would prove to be his penis. "A rose by any other name,” she mused, wondering how he could be so beautiful, even in agony like this.. She caressed his shoulder, her hand drifting to run a nail across his nipple, and then she straddled his knees, pinning them down. It wouldn't do at all for him to resist her right now, even in reflex.  
  
The Doctor's eyes opened again, and he stared into hers, as if she were the entire universe. “Trust me?” she asked. He nodded, sighing, and she placed her hand over his sex again for just a moment, her fingertips massaging the inflamed flesh with a whisper soft touch. His entire body went rigid, but he didn't try to stop her. He gritted his teeth against the pain, a sharp keen coming from the back of his throat as he tried to bite the sound back. She eased just one of her fingers inside the fold that seemed to be resisting the most, and the pinched skin was instantly released.  The Doctor shouted, collapsing forward into her arms, gasping for air. His penis had slid into her palm, seemed to be fully erect and at attention. She stroked him once, with only slight pressure, and he climaxed, his body vibrating with the intensity of it. She simply held him as he finished, but he blindly took her wrist in his hand and eased it away.  
  
“No more,” he begged. She supposed that his skin was still too hypersensitive, and set about in comforting him. She kissed him gently, withdrawing her hand enough to caress the insides of his thighs. His body was already starting to relax, the pain obviously easing. She lifted her hands to cup his face, and shifted forward to kiss him, murmuring reassurances and using each of her pet names for him in turn. His features gradually fell slack, and she realized that he had fallen unconscious.  
  
She let out a cry of alarm, and quickly shifted to crouch behind him in the water, making sure he didn't slip under. As she tilted him back, he started to float free of the structure where he had been leaning, and she easily pulled him free, back towards the nearest side of the pool, where he sank again, sitting upright. She managed to guide his head so that it was lolling over the side, and supported by her arm so he wouldn't hurt his neck. She stroked his hair, calling his name, and she gradually became aware that she was crying. She was so afraid that all she could do is cling to him, sobbing, and letting out little whimpers.  
  
And then she felt as if she was being wrapped in a warm blanket. The water was slowly heating, and she felt a slight tingling at her temples, a pressure in her mind. There was a noise like bird song, and she looked towards it, her gaze coming to rest on the mirror across the pool. A new hologram was being displayed now, superimposed over the meadow, with a representation of the Doctor's body turning in 3-D. She had seen something similar to this in the med-lab, but it has been two dimensional, on a computer screen. A long list of information was scrolled through, vital statistics all displayed in the same light blue-green color that the column in the Console Room emitted, all marked “Normal” until it reached the end of this list, at which point several entries were marked in dark blue, which she supposed was a relief. Anything out of the ordinary in the Med-Lab had usually been denoted by some mauve color that would have been murder to read in this lighting.  
  
She squinted, trying to make out the text, and it was zoomed in upon, seeming to come closer to her and become clearer. It read:  
  
_Project Blue Book is in full effect. Concubare is undergoing standard healing coma in response to transition and miscarriage. Recovery should be complete in approximately 27 minutes, 16 seconds._  
  
“What?” she demanded. As the text faded, she realized that it had been written in an alien language, but one that she had had no trouble reading. She had the feeling that she had already known the language, that it wasn't the Tardis translating for her. A new message came up in the same dark blue.  
  
_Three fetuses remain. Upon consciousness the drive to bond will be irrepressible._  
  
Donna stared at this message in shock, her tears forgotten. Her head pounded, she thought she could hear the sound of heartbeats echoing, the sound gently filling the space.  
  
_Your body is receptive._  
  
It was her body floating before her in perfect 3-D accuracy now. She could see the scars from when she had fallen off her Christmas bike, from her appendectomy. She turned away from the image that was hanging before her, a torrent of whispers washing over her. She pressed her face into the Doctor's neck and fell unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Academy Romana I on the way to her first job interview.

Romanadvoratrelundar paused and straightened her ivory robes before pushing open the large, wooden doors that led into the Library of the High Council. The building was large and stately, with Archives containing copies of every book and data recording ever written by a Time Lord--or Lady--and covering all areas of Gallifreyan history, science, and arts. Before her stood the Central Information Center, a directory, and doors that led to transport servicing all of the Library's various Archival levels in the form of lifts and shuttle services. The Library was spread across five complexes similar to this one. Across the room was also a moving walkway that ran through the Main Library.  
  
Romanadvoratrelundar had only been here once before, as a child in her third year at the Academy, having gotten it in her head that it would be best to read the original texts in her research for a paper, rather than use her data port. She had bypassed Central on that visit, and explored the vast environs of this building on her own, seeing it as a lovely opportunity for a bit of an adventure. Hours later, she had been found by a Time Lord who--to her young eyes--had seemed to be reaching the end of his then-current regeneration. He was kind enough, and had satisfactory answers to most of her questions, but he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to convince her that surely she was being missed somewhere and wasn't it time to go home?  
  
This had, of course, seemed ridiculous to her eleven-year-old self. No one ever missed her, because all she did was study. Her roommates were usually out enjoying electives such as Recreational Mathematics and Surpassing Archaeology while she stayed in the dorm completing the coursework for her double major. Books were the only real friends she had. But no matter how many times she reassured the Archivist that she wouldn't be missed, he wouldn't change his mind. He had taken her back to her dorm despite her protests, though he did try to convince her dorm-mother that she shouldn't be disciplined too harshly for leaving campus unsupervised. Romanadvoratrelundar hadn't thought of that trip for many years, and now here she was again, ready to start on another adventure of sorts, even if it would be one where she sat behind a desk.  
  
The queue at Central was not as long as the one from her memory, but it did require for her to wait for a couple of minutes. The ladies and gentleman that worked here all moved slowly, as if hurrying would be an insult to the grandeur of this place. But Romanadvoratrelundar was used to waiting, and found it to be an excellent chance to observe the décor and the behavior of the Library's visitors, all of whom were older than she was. Eventually it was her turn and the Librarian directed her to the Bureau of Ancient Records, which was where her interview was scheduled to be held in twenty minutes. The librarian also seemed to think that she needed to take a detour to Gallifreyan Resources, despite the fact that she was only here for an interview.  She hadn't been offered a position yet, so going through a lengthy orientation could very well prove to be a complete and utter waste of time. But the Librarian wouldn't give Romanadvoratrelundar a pass unless it included a detour to GR. She sighed, but decided that arguing was pointless, and took the pass and then the necessary lift.  
  
GR was just a quick two minute ride away, at which point a clerk and supervisor were no more help than the Librarian had been. They finally let her proceed to her next destination provided that she took the ream of paperwork with her. The second lift had a seat and a scroll feeder in it, which she was grateful for after having to wait so long. She had worn heels today, wanting to look her best, and now her feet were getting tired. During the ten minute ride to her next destination her curiosity got the better of her, and Romanadvoratrelundar found herself scrolling through the fine print of a non-disclosure agreement and a release for a background check.  She wondered how interesting her background could be when she was not a year out of the Academy.  It took her longer to secure the scroll in her pocket than it had done to read it.  
  
Most Time Ladies didn't look for work so quickly as she was. The custom was for them to take a year off to have their first child, then procure an internship for five years before taking another year off to have a second child. In Romanadvoratrelundar's case, however, she had already lost her first child six months ago, due to a failure to implant, and she was impatient to start working now that she had fully recovered. In fact, she had an appointment the next morning to attempt a second implantation, and she had been looking for work that wasn't strenuous so that she could fulfill her child requirement and continue her studies at the same time. Staying secluded for the entire pregnancy was becoming less and less common these days, and Romanadvoratrelundar was definitely a modern Time Lady. She couldn't let something like a child ruin her chances to jump start her career. She'd been working too hard for too long for anything to stand in her way.  
  
When the lift came to a stop, Romanadvoratrelundar stepped into a dim lobby. A couple of lights appeared to have gone out, and there was no desk here, or an obvious place to ask for information. In fact, a quick scan of the room revealed no obvious entrance to the Bureau. All that was here was a lone dark room with obscured artwork on the opposite wall.  She stepped out of the lift, squinting at a faded mural, which depicted a strange pool in a cave. As she stepped into the center of the small room, the scene changed, with the pool remaining the same, but the background now revealing a beach. If she stepped to the left, the scene would change to depict a forest, to the right, a meadow.  She also noticed a blur of writing on the wall, and suddenly felt an incredibly strong urge to turn around and get right back into the lift straightaway.  It was the most curious sensation, with her mind simultaneously telling her that she had no right to be here whatsoever and that this was her destination, both at the same time.  
  
“There you are, my girl, I was hoping that you wouldn't get too lost on the way here!” Romanadvoratrelundar turned to discover that the old man from her memory was standing before her, and he wasn't looking a day older than the man of her childhood memory. He had appeared out of nowhere, and she began to wonder just how strong of a perception filter was at work in this room. “Welcome to the Bureau of Ancient Records. I'd tell you which division you'll be working for, but I'm afraid that until you sign that paperwork that if I tell you anything more, then I'll have to kill you.” He made a funny little sidestep, almost like a dance: “This way, my girl.”  
  
“I'm sorry, but I'm here for an interview,” Romanadvoratrelundar stated calmly, without moving. He turned back to face her, chuckling:  
  
“An interview, you say? I seem to remember you already having one of those about twenty years ago.”  
  
“What?” she took a step forward in annoyance, and unexpectedly swayed, having suddenly grown dizzy. This room was affecting her somehow...it wasn't her time sense, not exactly, but something deeper. Her hearts sped up in anticipation, and the walls seemed too close, the air too heavy.  
  
“Come inside, you'll feel more comfortable,” the gentleman soothed. He was at her elbow now, and he guided her through the mural into another room. Romanadvoratrelundar could instantly breathe easier as they stepped into an Atrium. There were windows high overhead with sunlight streaming in. A pool identical to the one shown in the mural lay in the center of the room, only...it wasn't a pool. There was no water in it, rather a smooth pane of a bio-acrylic had been fitted in place of the surface of the water so one could access the Archive Directory. The screen looked like moving water, with words and images flitting across the screen from time to time, like a floating leaf or reflection.  Some of these messages were legible to her, some not.  
  
Romanadvoratrelundar blinked, her mind returning to a time when she had seen this place before. As a girl, she hadn't been able to see the mural in the dark, but something had drawn her to this room. She had sat down on the faux water, ate her dinner, then laid back to gaze at the stars. This is where she had been found, after hours, and in the midst of her great adventure.  
  
The Archivist placed a hand on her back, and led her across the room, past a couple of Time Lords in silver robes. They dipped a head in greeting, but silently hurried on. There were many doorways encompassing the perimeter of the room, but Romanadvoratrelundar could not make out where any led. They quickly reached the doorway at the far end of the room, opposite from where they had entered, and stepped into a large office that was cramped with several bookcases, armchairs, and a desk cluttered with papers and computers. “Have a seat, the tea is hot,” the Archivist greeted.  
  
Romanadvoratrelundar stepped over a pile of books that she had the distinct impression had been in the chair she was about to sit down in quite recently. She tried to surreptitiously scan the titles of the books nearest her, but she found the majority to be illegible. She had thought that she knew all variations of the Gallifreyan language, even the dialects from the Dark Days, but apparently she was wrong.  There was at least one language openly displayed here that she was unable to read.  
  
Her host handed her a cup and saucer, then perched a tray of biscuits on the back of a large tome which was sitting open on a chest between them. “Now then,” he said, leaning back, “you can call me Weft, and feel free to ask any questions, but I assure you that your mind is already quite made up.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“You told me the first time we met that you were going to work here, and ever since then, I've been following your career at the Academy. I must say that I'm impressed.”  
  
“Thank you,” she answered automatically, never sure how else to respond. She took a sip of her tea.  
  
“A smart girl like you won't be happy just anywhere,” he told her, dunking his biscuit, “and I think you'll find that this position will open doors for you later on.”  
  
“Really?” How so?”  
  
“About half of the Interns we have had over the past thousand years went on to sit on the Council or serve in the Guilds.” Romanadvoratrelundar suddenly felt skeptical. She sipped her tea and thought. “Oh, and 85% of the Lord and Lady Presidents we've had since Rassilon himself worked here.”  
  
“But not you,” she probed.  
  
“Nope, I've no heart for politics,” he was quick to assure her. “Behind the scenes, that's me. I know things that other people have forgotten or never even knew. People always underestimate me. Councilors come and go, but I'm still here.” He retrieved another biscuit and sat back comfortably. “Feel free to read that paperwork over.”  
  
Romanadvoratrelundar sighed, and eased the scroll of paperwork out of her pocket. It uncurled onto her lap. From another pocket she retrieved her stylus and signed the Confidential Disclosure Agreement all seven times and left her mark another twelve. Then she set it on the tome in front of him. “Right,” he said brightly, moving it onto his desk without even looking at it. “Once every five hundred years, I'm required to find a new apprentice to teach the Cubitian dialect to in order to preserve....”


	5. Chapter 5

_Wake up._  
  
Donna's eyes fluttered open. The Doctor's breath ghosted over her stomach and hip, causing goose pimples to prick up on her skin.  _Oh_. She wanted him so much. His face was hot against her skin, so strange when his body was usually cooler than hers. She tangled her left hand in his hair, stroking his scalp, a mad desire to take care of him at odds with wanting to feel him buried inside of her. He shifted, turning his face upwards. His hair tickled and prickled against her thighs. She lowered her right hand to stroke herself between her legs. The water pulsed to life suddenly, bubbling more rapidly, massaging her skin everywhere it touched. Donna gasped in appreciation.  
  
 _Wake up._  
  
The Doctor inhaled sharply, and his eyes flew open. He blinked, his eyes glossy and blank as if his mind still hadn't returned to full consciousness, and then he blinked again. He started to sit up, but didn't quite make it, his fingers splaying across his lower abdomen. Donna couldn't help but notice that his loins were stirring back into life. She watched even as she soothed him:  
  
“Shh...” She continued to stroke his forehead gently: “You're burning up.” He shuddered, his eyelids fluttering closed. Within moments his penis was fully erect, straining upwards. He sighed.  
  
“Donna...” his voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in a long time. The sound sent new waves of desire coursing through her. She wanted him to say her name again. “I think there's something wrong with me.”  
  
“I can see that on my own, thanks,” she returned, simultaneously amused and worried. “You blacked out, are you okay?” He stared at the ceiling again, pondering this:  
  
“I don't know.” He panted, his eyes flicking to meet her own. The desperation there was obvious, was so unusual to see in his warm-brown gaze. “Could you, just, hold me?” The need in his voice matched his facial expression. He was lost. “Please, I think... _I need you_.”  
  
Her hands left their ministrations to help him sit up beside her, and then she wrapped her arms around him. He was quivering like a leaf. Both of her hands found his hair, trying to lend comfort, and she wondered if she should continue to take the lead or allow him to decide what happened next. As soon as she was considering, he was kissing her desperately. She could barely stop the moan from pouring out of her as his fingers tangled in her hair, his motions reflecting her own movements.  
  
 _More_ , her mind screamed. His hands slid lower, their bodies instinctively turning to align with one another. Part of her mind was distracted by an insistent itching, her vulva tingling, desire thrumming through her uncontrollably. She opened her knees, one hand finding her center again, trying to find relief for these sensations. His mouth stopped moving against hers, and Donna panted against the Doctor's mouth. “Is this all right?' he asked hesitantly.  
  
All she could do was nod. She had no voice left. His hand dipped to cup her bottom with his hand, and she squirmed, pressing backwards into his palm.  
  
She could feel his eyes on her body, and she flushed beneath the attention. Her leg was in his lap, she realized. She shifted it to press her calf closer to his erection, hoping to distract him, squirming beneath his gaze. Would he like what he saw? She needn't have worried: “So beautiful...” Adoration dripped off his voice. He dipped his his mouth to drink from her throat, could feel it coming off of him in waves. He  _loved_ what he saw.  
  
"Get off it,” she denied, unable to stop herself. How could he want her? But this had the unfortunate side effect of causing him to stiffen, then pull away. She should have kept her stupid mouth shut. His eyes looked into her, searching for reassurance, for knowledge that she would rather keep hidden. She couldn't stand it, she looked away, shifting her body as far away from him as she could without fully breaking the contact between them.  
  
“I never realized,” his voice caressed as he placed kisses along the inside of her arm, his thought left incomplete.  He pulled her close again: “You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid eyes on.” Her eyes flew to his, afraid that he was taking the mickey. He wasn't. She whimpered.  
  
"Bless,” she sighed, trying to keep her mouth from hanging open. “You really believe that, don't you?” He nodded, pain filling his eyes. He suddenly felt so far away. She lifted herself to straddle his legs, her confidence renewed. She sat up straight, emboldened, her chest lifting towards him as if it was being pulled by a magnet. It was all she could do not to press her body up against his. “Is this what you want?”  
  
“You have no idea,” he rasped so quietly that she almost couldn't hear him. “Please.” He fell upon her breasts hungrily, his hands lifting her effortlessly so that he didn't even have to lower his head. She was surprised for a moment, and then the new sensations hit her, and she moaned, her body undulating in an attempt to feel more. He was relentless, and all she could do was hold on, panting desperately. She started to rub her vulva more furiously. He stopped, and she whimpered. She peeled her eyes off the ceiling and realized that he was watching enthralled as she stroked her swollen sex. Even in the water she could feel that she was dripping, arousal building beneath his gaze. She blushed.  
  
His hand encircled her wrist: “May I?” All she could do was nod in eager anticipation, trembling. She guided his fingertips to her clit. Her heart pounded in her chest. He was  _touching_  her. Her hips haphazardly jerked towards him. His other hand abandoned her bottom, began stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. She panted as the sensations pulsed through her, trying not to collapse. She sighed, tilting her head back, all coherent thought slipping away from her.  
  
She wasn't prepared for him to suddenly stick two fingers inside her cunt. She squealed, one hand clinging to him for support, the other flying to cover her mouth. She was right on the edge... His fingers nudged the pleasure out of her, the wave starting to build. “Donna, there's no one to hear you here except me,” his beautiful voice reminded her. “Sing for me,” he commanded. A moan poured out of her as she fell apart in acquiescence. Time seemed to slow as she shuddered around and against him, her voice wordlessly begging for more and then shifting to gratitude when he delivered it. Her entire body tingled in appreciation and anticipation. Fluid flooded out of her, and surprisingly she felt acceptance and increased arousal rather than embarrassment or mortification. No one had ever done that to her before.  
  
Their eyes met, his nostrils flaring, and suddenly his fingers were no longer inside of her. He called her name, his entire body quivering with a new tension. Still only half coherent, she muttered something in comfort to him, aware and accepting that something within him was about to break free. He was about to fuck her brains out, and she wanted him to do it. She took his erection firmly in hand, egging him on.  
  
The Doctor growled, his entire body leaping forward. Within the space of a second he had maneuvered them out of the water, lifting her as if she were weightless, and pressed her against the mirrored wall. He turned rigid and froze then, struggling to regain control as the head of his penis tapped against Donna's clit as if asking permission to enter. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing her thighs tight against his sides so she could align their bodies. And then she sank down onto him, moaning in delight as he filled her. He fit perfectly, and she pulsed around him in appreciation.  
  
The momentary hesitation was lost then. His hips took on a mind of their own and he began thrusting furiously in and out of her. Apologies fell off his lips, words of comfort and encouragement poured off hers, his fervor and pace gradually increasing. She met him measure for measure, her legs absorbing the energy of his furious pace and painlessly reflecting it back to him, feeding the frenzy. He couldn't hurt her, she was in complete control, effortlessly guiding him in driving her body to new heights of arousal. He started to yell, his strokes becoming haphazard, and she gazed at him, her mind drinking in the foreign sounds. His voice and body were so beautiful. She never would have guessed that this amazing dance could happen between them. She thrusted against him, desperate to reach release again, ready for what would happen next. She didn't care that she was scratching him as her hands grabbed his buttocks, increasing the force behind his thrusts, desperate for him to be deeper inside her.  
  
He roared as his body let go, squirting his seed up inside her. The intensity startled her, and she realized for the first time that they weren't using any form of protection just as the sensations overwhelmed her and she orgasmed a second time. Donna had always been a bit squicky about the idea of letting men ride her bareback in the past, this was the first time she hadn't insisted, hadn't even considered... Fuck, his glans was doing glorious things to her cervix, what the hell was his body doing to her? She liked feeling him cum inside her, she writhed against him, craving more.  
  
His arms had been using the wall for leverage, but now shifted to hold her up. This was fortunate because her legs were a bit nonresponsive at the moment. He staggered up the steps, out of the pool, and threw the screen aside, taking the shortest route to Donna's bed. He fell forward, pinning her to its surface. She studied his face, suddenly aware that he was still looking ill.  
  
“Doctor, are you alright?” she asked, worried. As if in response, she felt his penis twitch inside her. Her body thrummed in response, still ready for more. But he groaned in disbelief as he stirred to life inside her, somehow seeming to fill her even more than before. If she hadn't have been pinned to the bed so decisively, she would have writhed in appreciation.  _Guh_ , he felt divine.  
  
“Not again,” he begged her. “I'm sorry.” It distressed her that he wasn't enjoying this as much as she was. She supposed that he still wasn't fully recovered from his transition. He obviously wasn't in control of what was happening, and that must be unusual for a man who generally knew when his hearts skipped a beat, exactly what compound he was tasting, and what time of the month that she needed to spend a day relaxing in the Tardis resting rather than running without even asking. She rubbed his back reassuringly, shushing him:  
  
“I'm all right.” So much more than all right, she had to admit if she was honest with herself. Her body was singing. The sensation of his weight on top of her was divine. She never would have guessed...he was pinning her to the bed, how could someone so skinny weigh so much?  
  
 _Time Lord_ , she remembered. He wasn't just any man, he was different. “Listen to your body, it's telling you what it needs, I think.” His hips jerked forward roughly, burying his length deeper than she would have believed to be possible inside of her. He rolled them so that she was on top, and she sat up, relieved that she was able to ease him out enough to lessen the sudden discomfort.  
  
New desire coursed through her veins. She wanted to couple them completely again, it was driving her wild that he was now half inside of her, half out. He panted beneath her, lost in his own sensations. She started to move above him, guiding him in and out of her demanding cunt, slowly finding a position that suited her but not really starting yet. She noticed that his abs were cramping, and rubbed her palms against his tight torso. His penis twitched inside her, fully erect now. She was almost certain that she could feel him dripping inside her, his body ready and demanding more. He lay very still. The head of his cock nudged against her cervix, begging.  
  
She wasn't sure why, but she dipped her mouth to kiss his hard belly. She could sense the tension that was coursing through his body, held at bay by willpower alone. “Are you ready?” she asked. He nodded, and relaxed infinitesimally. She leaned forward, grabbing the headboard for support, her other hand finding his shoulder. He kissed the inside of her wrist. She rotated her hips, twisting her body around his shaft. He gasped in appreciation. And then she started to move above him with more purpose.  
  
The Doctor inhaled deeply, his tongue rolling inside of his mouth, the tip characteristically pressing against its roof. He grunted, then moaned stridently, beginning to move beneath her, his hands firm on her hips, rubbing them in encouragement. She leaned down to kiss him, humming in appreciation when his tongue claimed her mouth, then sat back up and increased her pace. She could feel him watching her again, but it didn't bother her anymore: on the contrary, it excited her. She had to close her eyes just so she could keep her focus.  
  
He caressed her sternum unexpectedly, sending a shudder down her spine, and then he was thumbing her clit. “Fuck,” she moaned with abandon. She panted: “So close...How you doin' this to me?”  
  
He purred loudly in response, then started thrusting upwards with more enthusiasm. Donna couldn't stop the moans from pouring out of her. She hadn't know that she could make noises such as these. And yet the noises sang from her being with intense familiarity, as if they were from a long forgotten song. She longed to remember... The Doctor groped one of her breasts, distracting her. Her nipples were swollen and tender after his earlier ministrations, and she didn't want to be touched there right now. She leaned back, bracing herself against his lifted knees, and continued her song, her hips instinctively moving in a pre-ordained dance that accompanied the sound. She suddenly wanted to see his eyes. She gazed down at him, smiling when she saw that he was frustrated that she wouldn't let him touch her, thrilled by the power she had over him. She winked.  
  
He practically growled as he sat up so their torsos were flush against each other. He pulled her against him, mashing her breasts between them, and kissed her insistently. His hands started to roam, distracting her from the song. His thrusts became brisker, were drawing new sounds from her, driving all thought out of her again.  
  
She held onto him tightly, pressing her face to his throat. She couldn't keep this up. And then he was touching her at the vertex of her pleasure and she imploded with unanticipated intensity. She shrieked, her teeth digging into the flesh of his shoulder, and she clung to him for fear that she would fly away. His seed pounded against walls deep up inside her, causing pleasure to ripple through places in her body that she wasn't used to feeling. The head of his engorged cock felt like it was plastered up inside her, and she wondered how she was going to peel him off the ceiling. And then his explosion ended, with him barking in a combined relief and disappointment. He fell back onto the bed, spent, pulling her with him.  
  
Donna panted in his arms, waiting for the waves to stop, for her breathing and heartbeat to normalize. She could hear his hearts already slowing. He always had more endurance than her. He flipped them suddenly, so that she was no longer on top. He caressed her side, and she was afraid for a moment that he would want to go again. She was quite exhausted, and her lower belly twinged, suddenly slightly crampy. “I'm done,” she warned him, her voice barely a whisper.  She didn't have the strength for more.  
  
“Shh...” he soothed. His tongue was wet behind the ear, and then he sank into the bed as boneless as she was. She could feel his skin instantly cool against her still flushed body. It felt nice. “It's all right,” he stroked her hair reassuringly. “I'll watch over you.” She wondered for a moment that he was still hard inside of her. She knew that he had come, but his erection was still filling her. It felt oddly delightful and soothing. Donna could feel herself drifting in space, and sleep claimed her.  
  
She instantly fell into a dream. For a while there was nothing but darkness. She knew that there would be more, and floated expectantly, waiting for something to begin. She gradually became aware of two dim lights, flickering like candles in a breeze. She reached out to them, and they drifted towards her, falling into her palms. She cradled the warm flames to her chest. They lapped at her breasts like warm kisses, and she could sense laughter and joy tickling at her mind. She cupped the flames in her hands and kissed them, then pressed them to her tummy, low below her bellybutton. Warmth flooded through her, and then her body temperature cooled to match the Doctor's. A connection pressed against the corners of her mind, stretching, then falling asleep. Then another connection pressed against her mind, this one more insistently. The awareness pressed itself into all of the places the other one had, then stretched her mind even farther, unlocking recesses that she had long forgotten. The song came back to her, this time fully remembered. Her mother had sang it to her hundreds of years ago. The second awareness cooed in happiness, reveling in the sound.  
  
A third awareness caressed Donna's mind then. The second laughed with delight, and the first woke back up. Cold fire lapped through her body, thudding through her veins. Her heart felt as if it would burst. The third presence felt like hands encompassing her womb. They throbbed once, twice, and then she became aware of a fluttering, so very subtle that at first she was sure it was imagined. Tendrils of flame were knitting themselves into herself, and she was knitting herself back into them. She realized that these flames belonged, were already a part of her, they were simply coming home. The connection surged, then settled, as two heartbeats hiccuped fully into life.  
  
The connection completed, she could hear the three presences clearly now. The first voice was reflecting the song back to her, having instantly learned it and delighted in its tones. The second voice was apologetic yet reassuring. The third voice was the Doctor, his body and mind curled around hers in awe and delight as he listened to the two voices within her. Sated and content, Donna allowed her mind to drift into a deeper sleep, feeling so safe that she couldn't even remember that the voices had never been or had ever had a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this to explore potential differences in hypothetical Alien Gender/Sexuality as framed by Gallifreyans. I recognize that i am largely ignorant of Human Gender/Sexuality in terms of the way it is viewed in a modern context. I may write things that you think are wrong or offensive. Please forgive me if i offend you, that is never my intent.


End file.
